‘That,’ murmured Fleet, ‘is why no one sits here.’
On the other side of the wall was another yard and more buildings. More iron spikes, too – and bars at the windows. A prison within a prison. The yard was long and narrow – scarcely a quarter the width of the Park – and packed tight with prisoners, thin, tattered souls stumbling slowly round and round as if in a stupor. More still peered out of the windows or lay stretched out in the dirt.
A gust of wind blew up and I caught the sweet, sickly smell of rotting meat again. And then I realised why. Some of the figures laid out in the far corner were wrapped in sheets. Corpses, left out in the autumn sun. I counted four in total. One was half the size the rest. A child.
Behind me, at the bar, they were singing a drinking song. Someone had brought out a fiddle. They all had their backs to the window.
‘The Common Side,’ Fleet called from his seat, making me start and draw back. ‘Hell in epitome. Does it interest you, Mr Hawkins?’
I closed the window with a firm click. I thought I could still smell the corpse stink on my clothes – but it was just my imagination. ‘How can they live in such a foul way?’
‘They don’t. Not for long.’
‘Do you not care, sir?’
‘Not if I can possibly help it.’ He yawned and removed his cap, running his fingers across the short bristle of his scalp. I noticed with surprise that he was wearing what seemed to be a gold poesy ring on his left hand. Did this man have a wife? A family? Somehow this did not seem possible. ‘I’ll tell you what interests me, sir,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trapped in this…’ he drummed his fingers, searching for the right word ‘… cesspit for eight months. I’ve seen a man flogged to death for sport. I’ve seen bodies left to rot for days in the heat of summer. And I’ve sat on that bench by the Lodge and I’ve watched every new prisoner arrive on the Master’s Side. Not one of them walked up to the wall on the first day. Not one. Most of them never go near it. So what I’m wondering…’ He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘Are you brave? Foolish? Or just curious? Because any one of those can get you killed in here…’
‘Here you are, gentlemen.’ The barmaid placed a large bowl of punch on the table and smiled down at me. ‘I hope it’s to your taste, sir.’
‘Well, well.’ Fleet leaned back. ‘Served by the lady of the Castle herself. What an honour.’
They exchanged a look. It was not friendly.
